Learning to Fight
by fromexilewithlove
Summary: Amanda asks the Rowdies to teach her how to fight.


_Amanda asks Cross and the other Rowdies to teach her how to fight._

Amanda landed on her ass in the dirt, wheezing and trying to catch her breath. A split second later, she rolled to avoid the kick Cross was aiming at her with a touch of panic, scrambling against the side of the van.

Gripps slid over and wrapped a restraining arm around Cross to walk him backwards, "Let her catch her breath, now."

"Why? Blackwing won't give her a chance to catch her breath," Cross grinned wolfishly at her past Gripps' hold, but relaxed and patted Gripps' shoulder as a signal to let go. Once released, he crouched next to Amanda, "You okay? Did that hurt?"

She shoved at him half-angrily and half-playfully, smiling but still trying to breathe normally after being punched in the stomach, "Yes, it hurt, you jerk!"

He pulled her into a brief hug and coached her gently, "It's going to hurt like that when you're fighting, too. When it happens, you just remember that you need to pay _more_ attention to what's going on around you, because they're going to try and follow up. They don't care if they hurt you. All they're going to care about is making sure you can't fight anymore," he stood up and held out a hand to her, hauling her up to her feet.

She shook herself off and nodded at him, "Okay—you ready to go again?"

He promptly jabbed her in the stomach again before she finished the last word, and she folded, "Fuuucckkkk…."

He didn't follow up on his advantage, but told her with a grim shake of his head, "Don't wait for me to be ready. And don't stop moving when I hit you."

"Isn't that called 'fighting dirty'?" she panted, still on hands and knees.

"Yes!" Cross beamed at her merrily, nodding approval, "Exactly!"

"There's no such thing as 'fighting dirty', Drummer, "Martin called from his vantage point, "Not for you. With your size, you're never gonna have a fair fight, so you do what you got to do to win or get away," he added after a beat, "And you need to find an equalizer."

Amanda tried to make sense of the words, but her brain took a minute to work them out while processing the pain from her middle, "What the fuck is an equalizer?"

"Something to even out the odds. Like a baseball bat," Martin brandished it at her," Or a crowbar."

"Or a rock!" Vogel chimed in enthusiastically.

She blinked at Vogel, "Won't Blackwing have guns and tanks and stuff?"

"Yeah, sometimes!"

"What good is a rock going to be if they have a tank?"

"Well…it'll be better to have it than to not have anything…"he shrugged with a smile, unconcerned.

She stood up with a grunt, and stretched gingerly, "I don't know…when have you ever heard of someone beating a tank with a rock?" she continued on without waiting for a response, "I don't know if this 'learning to fight' thing is such a great idea."

Cross sat down and opened a beer, "Aww, you just need a little more practice! We'll try again tomorrow," he raised the can to her and took a long drink, still grinning.

"It doesn't help that you're fighting someone a foot taller than you with years more experience," Gripps observed tranquilly.

Martin took his cue with a feral laugh, "Yeah, Cross—why don't you try picking on someone your own size?"

Cross' eyes narrowed, but his grin didn't disappear. He chugged the rest of the beer and pitched the can behind him. Vogel cheered encouragement.

"Wait," Gripps interrupted, gesturing to Amanda, "Mandy, come over here and sit next to me where it's safe. And try to keep in mind that they haven't managed to seriously hurt each other—yet—in sixteen years of doing this."

As soon as Amanda had crossed over to Gripps, Martin and Cross launched themselves at each other. She watched, fascinated—it was like watching a force of nature. She inched a little closer to Gripps.

They grappled for control, and Martin tried to put Cross in a chokehold—Cross began to turn red, but broke the hold by doing something swift and vicious that made Martin recoil. They crawled apart and each got back up on his feet, then collided again, careening off of the van and crashing together into a pile of junk.

When they broke apart, Martin's lip was bleeding and Cross was cradling his side. Cross reached for the crowbar–Martin sprang at him with a curse, kicking his forearm away from the weapon and sending both of them tumbling to the ground.

Martin stood up again, and was holding on to Cross' arm and jabbing painfully into his side when Cross kicked downwards, connecting with Martin's knee. They separated again for a few seconds of shared misery.

When they crashed into each other again, too many things happened too quickly to see. Cross gave a loud yell and beat on the ground with one hand as his other arm hung limp, conceding defeat. The sense of electricity in the air dispersed. Martin promptly helped him up and popped the dislocated shoulder back in place, exchanging murmurs of assurance that no permanent damage had been done.

They turned back to Amanda with twin expressions of pride and amusement, and she gaped at them, "That was…crazy!"

"Nah…that was fun!" Cross smirked, followed with a grimace, "It would've been more fun if I won…."

"You won last time," Martin objected around a new cigarette he was trying to light.

Cross shrugged this off with his non-tender shoulder, and they all sat in amused silence for a while before he tossed out, "I'm hungry—anyone want pizza?"

"You just want to terrorize the pizza delivery guy again," Amanda laughed.

"I'm not hearing a 'No'…."


End file.
